Film Club with Bill Crandall

I first met Bill Crandall at a restaurant as part of a wider gathering of friends. The first thing I remember saying to him was, “nice hat!” It was indeed, a nice hat. But that was just the beginning.

It wasn’t until our third meeting at a mutual friend’s birthday party that I actually got to know Bill.

I don’t usually do well at parties. I either withdraw completely and hide in a corner, or I overcompensate for my introvert tendencies with over-the-top bravado.

So you can imagine the relief when I found myself one-to-one with Bill over the chip and dip bowl inside the house.

We got to talking. And as Bill talked, my fascination grew. Photography, movies, art. People walked in, grabbed a chip, and walked out. But Bill and I didn’t move.

It was decided. Bill would host an art house film club at his house for six weeks starting the following Wednesday. And the rest was history.

This isn’t your average movie-going experience. This is transcendental.

Bill made one thing clear. This isn’t a party where a bunch of guys goof around while some mediocre flick plays in the background.

To be fair, Bill – and his lovely wife, Mariama – proved to be excellent hosts. A selection of beers. Pizza. Some nibbles for in-between.

But that wasn’t what I was there for.

I walked into the unknown, expecting the unexpected. And boy was I swept up in a strange, surreal Odyssey through cinematic art, with Bill as my guide.

Art can change the world

I’ll share my thoughts on each film in individual posts. But on the whole, Bill’s carefully curated selection has transformed me in ways I could never imagine.

From Bela Tarr’s Hungarian masterpiece, “Werckmeister Harmonies”, to Alun Owen’s brilliantly written “A Hard Day’s Night” featuring our favourite musical foursome, each film has peeled a different layer of cumulated social muck, slowly revealing me to myself.

My world has slowed down. I now see with my heart, not just my eyes. I’ve picked up on certain sensibilities that had evaded me for so many years.

Bill said to me yesterday that “art can change the world. Don’t believe me? Ask someone who lived through the Iron Curtain how they felt when they saw the Beatles for the first time. They gave people hope where there was none, courage when it was needed and the will to live when it had all but dissipated.”

Needless to say, my own life has changed for the better. And to think it all started with a comment about a hat. It sure was a nice hat.

Thank you, Sir Bill, for bringing me through the doorway, out of the AI-slop, generic, cookie-cutter world and into a world filled with dreams, curiosity and real, true, art.

If you want to learn more about Bill and his work, check out his blog. You won’t regret it, believe you me.